


The Emma Swan Show (or: The Story of an Orphan Finding her Family. Just not the Way Everyone Expected.)

by detailsofyourincompetence



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Truman Show Fusion, F/F, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kidnapping, microaggression/racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-18 17:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5937130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/detailsofyourincompetence/pseuds/detailsofyourincompetence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma Swan is a lonely orphan. Mr. Gold is a producer slash scientist who adopted her when she was only a few days old. Regina Mills is the reason Emma Swan finds out that the life she is just beginning is nothing but a TV Show (slash social experiment, if you believe Mr. Gold.)</p><p> </p><p>  <i>Three things Emma Swan doesn't believe in: ghosts, family and true love.</i><br/><i>Three things Emma Swan does believe in: herself, her infallible superpower and coincidences.</i><br/><i>So when one week late in June, she finds a travel brochure for “the picturesque fairytale town of Storybrooke, Maine” in her mail on Monday, sees a newspaper ad for the Storybrooke country fair on Wednesday, and hears about an opening for the position as deputy sheriff of Storybrooke on Thursday, she believes it to be nothing but a coincidence.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story is written for the Swan Queen Big Bang, and when I signed up for it, I didn't realize what I had gotten myself into. It's been quite a ride, and I'd like to thank everyone who held my hand during it (god knows I needed it): Nadine for cheerleading duty; L. for last minute beta services, but I have to insist that all remaining mistakes are my own; and last but not least: the lovely mippippippi for reading my story and creating [this fantastic art](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6045028/) on such a short notice.
> 
> Special thanks are due to Lola and Tiff for organizing this wonderful Big Bang and giving us all the opportunity to come out and play.

 

 

Three things Emma Swan doesn't believe in: ghosts, family and true love.

 

Three things Emma Swan does believe in: herself, her infallible superpower and coincidences.

 

So when one week late in June, she finds a travel brochure for “the picturesque fairytale town of Storybrooke, Maine” in her mail on Monday, sees a newspaper ad for the Storybrooke country fair on Wednesday, and hears about an opening for the position as deputy sheriff of Storybrooke on Thursday, she believes it to be nothing but a coincidence. (She hasn't once heard of said town in her 28 years of life, but really, she wasn't exactly a geography geek in high school.)

 

She thinks it is a bit weird when on Friday, she has proof that her current bail jumper is on his way to Storybrooke; weird, but a coincidence nonetheless.

 

A rather fruitless Google search uncovers only simple facts about the small town (mayor named Mills, no pictures; and Storybrooke Daily Mirror is probably the only contemporary newspaper lacking a web site), and oddly enough, Storybrooke won't even show up on her GPS. Emma is nothing if not resourceful, and half an hour later she enters the coordinates of the town hall (44° 4′ 44.4″ N, 69° 10′ 51.6″ W, and what kind of travel brochures states coordinates anyway?, she wonders briefly) into her GPS.

 

Around 9 am, she follows the I-95 up north, and when she changes lines she notices a white Mercedes van a few cars behind her. She has to stop for gas a few miles south of York, and when she sees the same van in the parking lot, engine running, she thinks she is being followed. She waits at a traffic light in Portland, and when she spots the van behind a red corvette, she _knows_ she is being followed. There are road works between Portland and Falmouth, slowing traffic down, and she takes the opportunity to memorize the license plate and tries to make out the driver behind tinted glass (male? female? extraterrestrial squirrel wearing a phrygian cap? she really can't tell). Instead of following her instincts, which would include flooring her bug, ignoring every red traffic light and an illegal u-turn, she calls her boss. “I'm going ask you to run a license plate for me,” she states without preamble, "and you're going to say yes."

 

Eugenia Lucas laughs humorlessly. "Emma, just because I once was a police officer doesn't mean I approve of abuse of power. I'll need a DPPA permissible purpose."

 

"There's been a van tailing me since Boston. I have a- I don't know. Call it a hunch."

 

"Sorry, I can't do that, Swan. A 'hunch' is not a permissible purpose."

 

Emma Swan knows when she has lost an argument before even starting one, and so she hangs up, and keeps driving, and driving, and looking into the rear view mirror, and it is only 70 miles later, a few minutes before she passes a sign welcoming her to Storybrooke, Maine, that she has finally lost her tail.

 

(You know what's really crazy? When her boss does try to run the license plate, and no more than fifteen minutes later, plainclothesmen are knocking down her front door, asking where she got the license plate and what did she know about a secret operation? Nothing, she says, and it feels like the day they ran Patty Hearst's license plate, back in 1974, and the FBI had been storming their office within ten minutes. So when her boss (who happens to be a former business colleague of a certain Mr. Gold) calls to tell her that she is to order Emma Swan to take a vacation, stat, preferably in Maine, she does just that. Stat.)


	2. One

 

 

Three things Regina Mills doesn't believe in: god, blood being thicker than water, and happy endings.

 

Three things Regina Mills does believe in: money, power, and herself.

 

So when one night in June, she gets a phone call from her mother, she knows better than to assume that family business is more about family than it is about business.

 

“Next week is going to be very important, darling,” her mother starts without preamble.

 

Regina's first impulse is to say, 'New phone, who's there?', which wouldn't exactly be a lie, but she has caller ID and her mother does know that she has caller ID, and Regina has been on her toes since she has seen her mother's office phone number on the display. So, instead, she opts for, “I know, mother. I'm going to do my best.” Regina suppresses a sigh; she stopped intentionally annoying her mother when she was a teenager.

 

“I know, darling, I just wanted to remind you,” is the curt reply, 'don't disappoint me,' is what her mother doesn't add. Doesn't have to.

 

This time, Regina does sigh. “What else can I do for you, mother?”

 

And her mother launches into a monologue about career choices, and social obligations, and last chances, and not once does she ask about her grandchild, or about Regina. Regina holds the phone to her ear, loosely, and when she actually tries to not listen to her mother's words, it is not all her fault. Afterward, she fights the impulse to take a scorching hot shower and forage her stock of red wine. Instead, she makes a silent vow not to become her controlling mother, sets the table and pulls a perfectly made lasagna (thank god, one thing her mother didn't ruin) from her new oven.

 

Dinner with Henry is a silent affair, and she can read in the way he tightly presses his lips together that he still hasn't forgiven her for moving from New York to rural Maine.

 

She opts not to do the dishes, but make use of her new dishwasher. Torn between listening to every sign of movement from her son upstairs and just crawling up in bed, she calls a familiar number (one of the three telephone numbers she has memorized, and she promises herself to update the directory of her new phone first thing in the morning). She can feel some of the evening's tension leaving her shoulders when the other side is picked up. “I need you to keep me company, Marian, just for a few minutes. Just for me to start a drink and forget about tonight.” She turns a few times, before spotting wine glasses in the kitchen cabinet, and a bottle of mediocre (still, better than nothing) red wine on top of the refrigerator.

 

Marian, on the other end of the line, laughs sympathetically. “That bad?” There is a faint gurgling sound to be heard over the line, and Regina guesses that Marian has opened herself a bottle of red wine as well.

 

“Yes,” Regina sighs. She makes a face, thankful that the twenty cameras in her house haven't been turned on yet- that is, should she decide to believe what Gold told her. “I honestly don't know what I've gotten myself into, and even more, I don't know how this should work. I don't think a supposed small time criminal and a fictitious town are enough for someone to leave Boston, nevertheless stay in small town Maine.”

 

On the other end of the line, Marian hums. “If there is one thing we've learned, Regina, it's that we should never underestimate Rupert Gold. He wants Emma Swan in Storybrooke, so he will make her come to Storybrooke.” She hesitates just for the fraction of a second, then, “you, on the other hand, are you sure about this?”

 

Regina thinks about controlling mothers, single motherhood and the threat of every good thing in her life being taken away should she not abide by her mother's wishes, and replies, “no, of course not. But then again, yes, I am sure about this.”

 

Marian laughs humorlessly. They talk for a while, until Regina's (and probably Marian's as well) wine glass is empty, until she doesn't feel her mother lurking behind her any more. Before hanging up, Marian says, “and Regina, if you ever need anything, call me, okay?”

 

Regina agrees, but knows that if everything goes according to Gold's plan, she will neither have enough time nor the opportunity for outside calls.


	3. Two

 

 

_"The audience is tired of watching actors in an artificial movie set. They are tired of fake emotions, fake relationships, fake stories. They are tired of special effects and cheap CGI. This is where our show comes in. While the town Emma Swan will inhabit is, in some ways, artificial as well, Emma Swan isn't. There are no scripts, no cue cards. Her life won't always be a fairytale, but it will be one thing- real. It will a be life.”_ (Rupert Gold, producer of _The Emma Swan Show_ )

 

And so their story begins.

 

* * *

 

 

The week before the show starts is relentless. There are technicians everywhere, and screen tests everyday, and soon, seven days morph into 168 hours of dress rehearsal. Regina moves into her new office on Monday. There is a painting of two birds hanging on the wall behind her desk, and “I will absolutely not pretend being the mayor of this town with this atrocity tainting my office,” she tells her assistant. He hurries off immediately, because she still does have a reputation, and two hours later he comes back with an assortment of modern paintings. She frowns upon all of them for fifteen minutes, finally settling for a black and white dragonfly print that fits well in with the dark monochromatic decor.

 

There is still a faint smell of fresh paint to her new office, as well as to their new house, but she knows that within the next few days, the set decorators, or town decorators as Mr. Gold likes to call them, will finish their job, and Storybrooke will lose its impression of a movie set and feel more like the small, 1880 founded Maine town it is supposed be.

 

On Tuesday, they have their first official cast dinner. They make it a challenge to address each other with their character’s names, and in her head she repeats 'Mary-Margaret, David, Dr. Hopper,' over and over again. She is one of the few cast members who got to keep their real names (Mr. Gold had told her that Regina means queen, as if she hadn't known that already, and isn't that just perfect for a mayor? She had almost shrugged, thinking 'what's in a name anyway,' but nodded instead.) Mary-Margaret is sitting across from her, all doe-eyes with David, and it takes all of Regina's self control to not roll her eyes so hard it hurts.

 

“I think it's an impressive project,” Mary-Margaret says, and David nods in approval. “We get to see a young woman grow from an abandoned orphan to someone who is surrounded by friends, and even by family, hopefully. We're giving her a place to call home and I think that is wonderful.”

 

Regina flinches at 'family', and 'home', and she wonders how anybody can believe this fake agenda Mr. Gold has been trying to sell them since casting is over.

 

“We can help reinstate family values. The Emma Swan Show will demonstrate that even for someone moving through life with almost no goals, it is always possible to start over, to start a life as a valuable member of our society,” David agrees.

 

Regina smiles a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. “Yes, we're also going to show our audience that almost everything is possible when you kidnap an orphan.”

 

At that, Mr. Gold looks over at her and joins the conversation. “Well, dearie, according to law, it's not kidnapping. As I am sure you know, Gold Ltd. legally adopted Emma Swan, making her the first child being adopted by a corporation. Furthermore, we are not kidnapping her. We are giving her an option of a better life, to find a home. If she doesn't like what is being offered, she will be free to leave any time she wants.”

 

Regina isn't too sure about that; too much has already been invested, too much money has been spent to simply accept a possible failure. She doesn't know if Emma Swan's right to leave has been written down, but she has heard rumors about certain 'safety lines' to ensure that the unknowing protagonist won't just do that. Her insides coil into a tight ball at that, and she can't suppress her grimace.

 

David notices and looks at her pointedly. “If you don't believe in the show, _Regina_ , then why did you agree to join the project in the first place?”

 

She thinks about real families, and sons and mothers, and the threat of everything being taken away from her, and she snarls, “None of your business,” in a voice so deep it makes him recoil. Inwardly, she smiles triumphantly. Never too soon to start working on her reputation, she thinks. Mr. Gold actually looks like he is going to congratulate her for being so in character.

 

After that evening, David doesn't even once try to get her involved in a conversation.

 

 

 

Thursday morning, she takes Henry to the diner for breakfast. She orders a power breakfast and coffee, black, for herself. Henry has strawberry pancakes (his favorite, and before she agreed to move to Storybrooke, she had them added to the diner's menu), and a hot chocolate with cream. He is deliberately pushing his luck, she knows. Usually she would insist on at least one healthy choice, but he hasn't really talked to her for a week now, still angry about moving, and she is willing to make some compromises.

 

Breakfast is a quiet affair, Regina trying to engage Henry in a conversation and Henry only answering in monosyllables.

 

“It's only for a week,” she finally says while Henry is chewing on the last piece of his pancake, “then you're staying with Marian and Mulan.”

 

Contemplatively, he looks back at her. She almost expects him to tell her 'you're sending me away, mom,' or 'I hate you and want to move back to New York,' instead Henry swallows and sighs. “That's only for the summer break. And afterward?”

 

He doesn't ask, 'How long will this farce last?' and she can only wonder when her little boy grew up to be this smart young man.

 

 

 

On Friday morning, there is a public announcement that the protagonist is on her way to Storybrooke. It is the last time that the speakers will be in use for the foreseeable future.

 

The town comes alive with people hurrying along the streets to their designated place of employment. Regina has already been up since 6 am, a force of habit, and dressed herself in what Mr. Gold decided was her mayoral outfit. She likes the expensive fabric clinging to her body, and she has drawn her eyeliner in a crisp line around her eyes, almost as a mask. She decides against taking the car. So instead, after waving Henry goodbye, she walks over to her new office. People are milling about all around her, and she recognizes Dr. Hopper friendly waving at her.

 

In her office, she slips her four inch heels off her feet. Her black Jimmy Choos are not made for walking, and that is something she'll have to get used to. She settles into her office chair. Pretending to be a mayor is something she will have to get used to as well, and she's suddenly thankful for the in-depth research she has done during the last weeks. She doesn't feel as out of place as her secretary seems to be, Regina thinks when she notices his hand trembling as he hands her the fake mayoral correspondence.

 

At around noon, her secretary brings her lunch from the diner (kale salad, another option she insisted to be added to the menu) and Regina can only wait until a yellow bug pulls up in front of the town hall.

 

'There's no way back now,' she thinks and forces a smile on her lips.

 

The first time she meets Emma Swan that evening, she feels she can see right through her. Prior to moving to Storybrooke, they had received a file with detailed report about Emma Swan, and she knows next to everything about the other women (orphan. ran away from her group home at the age of sixteen, gave up her son for adoption when she was eighteen, and hundreds more of poor life choices). Smiling, she offers the other woman her hand in greeting.

 

For a full five seconds, she swears Emma just gapes at her, closing and opening her mouth, and she finds it funny until it gets to the point where she worries that she has forgotten to zip up her dress, and probably herbs between her front teeth. Then Emma shakes herself out of her trance. “Hi.”

 

“Thank you for freeing our town from this August Booth,” Regina says, finally shaking Emma Swan's hand. “Because of your courageous intervention, he is already en route to the Suffolk County House of Correction.” She lets go of the other woman's hand and tries a little less Stepford wife and more capable mayor. “In Storybrooke, we take security very seriously, so how would you like to stay at our bed and breakfast, for a night or two, as a thank you of sorts? You must be really exhausted from the long drive.”

 

She knows that it is an offer Emma can't resist, knows of the vacation being imposed on her, so she smiles winningly until Emma nods and agrees, “just for a night or two.”

 

It doesn't come as a surprise to her when five days later, just after taking Henry to the bus stop and watching him leave for New York, she runs into Emma, taking a leisurely stroll down Storybrooke's Main Street.

 

So Emma Swan's stay in Storybrooke won't be just for a night or two, not even for only a week, because what Mr. Gold wants, Mr Gold gets, and right now? He wants Emma Swan to stay in Storybrooke.


	4. Three

 

 

They are now in week two of The Emma Swan Show, and everybody seems to have settled in so far. Regina has to admit that she almost enjoys small town life, everything is orderly and the other amateur actors are working hard on keeping up the false front.

 

She admits she misses Henry, through, and she is looking forward to Thursday night, looking forward to locking herself in her bathroom and talking to Henry on the phone, listening to him telling her excitedly about his visit to the Brooklyn zoo, or the Museum of Natural History, and she will laugh at his enthusiasm and for half an hour she can almost forget about the cameras in the other rooms of the house. She might speak to Marian for a few minutes, enduring her obvious judgment and offers of help, and like last week, she will shrug it off.

 

On Thursday morning, she doesn't head straight for her office, making a detour for the diner instead. She orders a coffee, black, and the waitress is surprised when she chooses to sit down in the corner booth instead of taking a to go cup.

 

The sunlight falling through the window is warm on her hands, and she wonders just how much of it is typical July weather in Maine and how much is Mr. Gold's doing. She thinks about the cell phone hidden in her bathroom, and for a moment, she cares a little less.

 

“Wow, I don't think I've seen you smile like this since I came to this town.” Emma grins at her before pointing at the seat opposite of her. “Do you mind?” She slides into the booth before Regina can reply though.

 

Holding the cup of coffee to her lips, Regina contemplates the blonde woman. “I see you are still in town, Miss Swan? Planning on leaving anytime soon?”

 

The other woman feigns hurt. “So much anger in the morning, Madame Mayor?” She grins and admits, “anyway, you'll be happy to hear then that I'm planning to leave on Saturday morning.”

 

Inwardly, Regina groans. Mr. Gold will be seething when he sees the day's recordings. On the outside, she smiles. “This is excellent news. Heading back to your exciting job in the big city?”

 

Emma nods, and she looks at Regina like she can see that her condescension is as fake as her smile is sometimes, and Emma's eyes still stay gentle. “I've used up all of my vacation days, and my boss might be saying now that my perfect track record gets me paid leave, but next week, when she needs someone to hunt another bail jumper, she will certainly change her mind. So I need to leave.”

 

Regina thinks about leaving Storybrooke behind herself, going back to her old life, drinking wine with Marian on Friday night, taking Henry to the whole food market on Saturdays. Thinks about sleeping in on Sundays and missing her mother's call

 

She is looking out of the window, a smile playing around her lips, as on the other side of the tree, a truck crashes into a yellow bug.

 

Inside the diner, Emma lets out a surprised cry.

 

 

 

That didn't take long, Regina thinks while she watches the smashed up car being towed away. It's an educated guess that Mr. Gold is behind this.

 

“I had this car since I was eighteen,” Emma mutters next to her, “I bought it when I got out of...”

 

'Out of jail,' Regina knows she was going to say, but she lets the other woman's voice trail off. She moves a little closer to Emma, their shoulders brushing, and she can feel Emma shaking slightly. 'This is not going to end well,' she thinks, feeling her stomach sink.

 

 

 

At 7 pm sharp, Regina is in the mansion's master bathroom, pulling her private cell phone from the bottom drawer. This is one of the few cell phones that are not monitored, and the only one Regina has access to.

 

(When she finally had agreed to join the new show, Regina had still been in a position to negotiate the details of her contract. She had declined Mr. Gold's offer of coffee, or water, and had cut right to the chase. “I don't want any cameras in Henry's room, Gold. No cameras, no microphones. He is not going to play a major part in the show at all.”

 

Mr. Gold had smiled a smile that hadn't quite reached his eyes. “He is a child, Regina. You know how boys his age are- there is no way you can keep him out of this.”

 

Clenching and unclenching her fists under the table to keep her emotions from showing on her face, she had replied, “He is not going to play a _major part in the show,_ Gold. I know I can't keep him away from _her_ , but I will not have you manipulate him.” She had swallowed back an added _like you manipulated me_ , and instead said, “you keep your camera crews away from my son, or I will call off my move.” She had waited motionless until Mr. Gold had finally agreed with a nod.

 

“No cameras in Henry's room, no microphones. Understood. What else can I do for you, dearie?”

 

Letting go of the breath she had been holding, Regina had continued. “In addition Henry's room, no cameras in the bathroom, or the cameras in my house will be turned off for one hour every week.”

 

“Regina, dearie...”

 

She had shaken her head vigorously. “Not negotiable.”

 

It had been almost three hours later, when Regina had given her final approval. After watching her sign the twelve pages long contract, Mr Gold had shaken her hand, perfectly satisfied.” The audience will hate you, but they will admire you at the same time. More importantly,” he had added, almost as an afterthought, “they will love you feuding against the protagonist.”

 

At that, Regina had almost given in to the impulse to shred the contract to pieces, demanding mother be damned. Almost.)

 

“Didn't he say something about Emma being free to leave any time she wants?” Marian asks when she picks up the phone.

 

“I guess you have already seen footage of today's events,” Regina replies, her voice flat.

 

“It's almost impossible not to, videos of the truck crashing into her car are all over the news. Every angle imaginable, of course. And right after that they show a close up of Emma's face. You know, the one where she tries not to cry and tells you she had this car since she was eighteen. What have you gotten yourself into, honey?”

 

Regina sighs, rubs her right hand over her tired eyes, her left one clutching the phone tightly. “I didn't have a choice. You have met my mother?”

 

“Yes, I have, though I'd rather say I haven't. Look, but you do have a choice. You're not alone in this, you know?”

 

Regina hums noncommittally. “When you're finished with judging me, can I speak to my son now?”

 

Henry is somewhat reserved in the beginning, lightening up only when he tells her about accompanying Mulan to self-defense class. “She wouldn't even take Roland with her,” he explains excitedly, “but she said that I am old enough that I should be able to kick some- to safe myself when I am in danger. She even promised to show me how to do a shoulder-throw next week!”

 

When his excitement has worn of and Henry starts to yawn, she tells him to go to bed. “I miss you, but I am glad to hear that you're enjoying your time away from me. Sleep tight, and no more reading under the covers, okay?”

 

Grudgingly, he promises her to sleep soon, murmuring, “love you, mom.”

 

“Love you too, cariño. Oh, please do me a favor and hand the phone to Mulan.”

 

“Are you going to give me an earful for making sure your son can stand his ground should it ever come to it?” Mulan outright asks.

 

Regina counters, “Actually, I was going to thank you for taking such good care.” Then she hums and adds, almost good-naturedly, “On the other hand, I'd say you need some reminding that Henry is ten, not eighteen.”

 

“That's why I'm giving him self defense lessons and not taking him to a shooting range. Regina, I really hope it never comes to it, but if it ever does I want him to know how to stay safe, how to not be powerless.”

 

Before the show, Regina hadn't exactly warmed up to Marian's girlfriend, the other woman always keeping a cool facade unless she has an arm wrapped around Marian or carries Roland on her shoulders, but now she feels a wave of thankful affection surging through her. “Thank you, Mulan. I really mean it.”

 

“Don't mention it. Just- stay safe, okay? Marian wouldn't survive if anything happened to you.”

 

 

 

Mr. Gold calls her at 7 am the next morning. Regina has a towel wrapped around her hair, still damp from a shower, and she feels oddly vulnerable when he acts surprised that she isn't in her office yet. “But there are more important things to discuss. As you're well aware, the protagonist is lacking a car. Still, you need to make sure that she doesn't leave town and goes back to her old job. A job she doesn't have any longer, as I probably should mention.” He pauses, obviously proud of his range of influence. She doesn't disagree. “You will offer her a job. I heard there's an opening in the sheriff's department.” He cackles.

 

“I don't think that there is enough crime in this town for Graham to need a deputy,” she replies.

 

“Oh, I wasn't talking about the position of deputy, dearie. Didn't I mention that Graham Humbert is on his way to Belfast. A tragic family death. So you are missing a sheriff, and you will offer that position to Emma Swan.”

 

Half an hour later, she calls Emma's cell phone to arrange a meeting in the town hall. (She takes an extra five minutes to make sure her eyeliner is applied precisely.)

 

 

 

It takes Regina one look at Emma to know that it won't take a lot to make her stay in Storybrooke. Regina remembers the way the blonde was shaking next to her not even 24 hours before, and she has to force thoughts of regret, of compassion, to the back of her mind to be able to offer Emma a lie Mr. Gold had constructed for her beforehand.

 

Emma blanches at the mention of a family death, a grandmother really close to Graham Humbert, somebody he mentioned every time he talked about home, and Regina knows she has found Emma's underbelly.

 

Not even an hour later, Emma accepts the sheriff’s badge Regina hands her. (She doesn't think that outside of Storybrooke, she could appoint Emma sheriff without an official election at least, and she suspects that Emma is aware of that too, but sometimes, we are so desperate to believe what is being offered, she thinks.)

 

 

 

She makes it a habit to visit the Sheriff’s department every Monday. The first week, it is under the pretext of making sure that Emma is settling in, and she suggests weekly meetings after that, “only until you've come more familiar with everyone around here. Small town Maine has its own predicaments.”

 

Emma's eyes light up at that, her expression suddenly softening. “I'd really like that.”

 

“Strictly for business,” Regina clarifies.

 

“Strictly for business,” Emma agrees, eyes so warm, and Regina can't get herself to look away.

 


	5. Four

 

 

They are in week seven of the Emma Swan Show when Emma tries to kiss her.

 

“If you think I'll let you into my house, let alone into my bed, you should think again, Miss Swan,” Regina snarls.

 

Emma just smiles, and doesn't look intimidated at all. “Okay,” she breathes, before brushing her soft lips over Regina's.

 

Regina tries not to react, tries so hard and still fails. She doesn't let Emma into her house, though.

 

 

 

Five minutes after she has closed the front door on Emma, the feeling of the blonde's lips still fresh on her mind, her phone rings.

 

Mr. Gold's voice on the other end of the line is a strange mixture of tightly controlled excitement and a barely suppressed growl, Gold's way of trying to display dominance. “The cameras in your study are turned off for the time being, Regina. We should talk, don't you agree, dearie?”

 

Without further prompting, Regina settles into the loveseat, thinking about Emma, and kissing, and all the cameras evenly distributed throughout her house. She presses a finger to her lips, and listens to Mr. Gold rambling on about adversaries making the best lovers, and about how alternative lifestyles are the 'way to go' on social media, and she almost throws up after he finally hangs up. Instead, she schools her features into a calm mask and avoids her phone for the rest of the evening. (Ten missed calls, she will discover in the morning, every single one from her mother, and Regina postpones worrying her mother's rage until after picking up Henry from the bus stop.)

 

 

 

Regina still stops by the sheriff's office every Monday. Sometimes under the pretense of town business, sometimes Regina brings lunch for two with her. Emma's eyes light up whenever she spots leftover pastelón or chicharrón de pollo in Regina's hands. Regina quickly learns that the way to Emma's heart really is through her stomach, and she feels her own stomach warm pleasantly every time the other woman smiles at her.

 

Once, when they are sharing piragua de crema de mango con vainilla, Emma stops, her spoon mid-air. “Why didn't you ever tell me that you have a son?” she asks suddenly, eyebrows drawn close together.

 

“I… I don't know, actually.” Regina can feel her heart beating in her throat, and her breath hitches. “I guess we never really talk, do we?”

 

Involuntarily, Emma lets out a half-laugh. “Oh come on, Regina, you come here every week, and it's not 'strictly for business' anymore, and now you're telling me that we don't talk anymore? I don't even need my superpower to spot that lie.”

 

Regina sighs, places her spoon on the desk between them. She considers saying, 'it just didn't come up, okay?', but Emma keeps gazing at her so patiently, and Regina remembers the softness of her lips, warm fingers splayed across the back of her neck, and she opts for as much of the truth as she can give her right now.

 

Regina talks about adoption, about how her son withdraws from her from time to time and how she feels that there are parts of him that she'll never truly understand, but he is still hers, her son. Haltingly, trying to keep her voice even, she talks about her fiancé Daniel, his private pilot license still new in his pocket, not returning from his first solo flight. (She doesn't tell Emma, though, how she still lies awake some nights, wondering if her mother had the engine of the small plane manipulated.)

 

Emma listens and nods, and looks at her with eyes that are understanding, and maybe even shining with wetness.


	6. Five

 

 

They are in month five of The Emma Swan Show, and Regina watches Emma grow more and more restless every week. “Do you ever think about leaving?” she finally asks, leaning against the window behind Regina's desk, while Regina is busy signing paperwork. The other woman came over with a greasy take-out bag from the diner (Regina wasn't hungry, she's had a late breakfast with Henry, but Emma smiled, so proud of herself, placed the food on the edge of the desk and her hand on Regina's forearm and leaned in for a brief kiss, and Regina couldn't get herself to do anything that could wipe the grin off Emma's face).

 

She pauses the pen over the paper. “The town? No, I haven't.” She shakes her head. “I don't think there's anywhere for me to go. And I really like it here, I have to admit.” It is only half a lie, she has grown accustomed to small town life, of time moving more slowly, of her life being peaceful, in a way.

 

“Don't you ever wonder what life is like outside of Storybrooke?” Emma pushes onward.

 

Regina laughs humorlessly. “Oh, I know what it _is_ like in the city. It's not like I have lived here all my life-” She bites her tongue, stopping herself at the last moment.

 

Emma notices anyway. For the first time that day, she stops the constant tap-tap-tap motion of her foot against the marble and granite floor. “Pray tell, Madame Mayor, where have you lived then? And what made you come back here?”

 

Her secretary calls at that moment, announcing that her 2 pm meeting is fifteen minutes early, and would she mind if she sent him in already? Regina sighs, defeated, and she knows it is too much of a coincidence to not be orchestrated.

 

Emma's face falls, her eyes losing their spark.

 

 

 

Two days later, she gets a call when she is on her way back home from 'work'. “Madame Mayor,” she recognizes Dr. Whale's voice, “you should come to the hospital. Immediately. It's about Emma Swan.”

 

She is in the emergency room in five minutes. Record time, the nurse tells her. Regina doesn't let her know that her car is parked illegally at the curb.

 

Emma has already been moved to a private room, the hospital being unbelievably quiet for a Friday night, and Regina wonders if Mr. Gold is finally slipping up or if there simply aren't enough extras to inhabit Storybrooke General.

 

Emma is white as a sheet when Regina enters the room, her blond hair sticking up in every direction. She breaks out into fresh tears upon noticing the other woman. Regina is at her side in two long steps, placing a helpless hand on Emma's shoulder. This time, she is the one shivering, relief at seeing the other woman in one piece almost tangible under her fingertips.

 

She waits wordlessly while Emma cries into her shoulder, the fabric of her blouse turning damp. “I wanted to buy a used car from him,” Emma starts to explain minutes later, and at first, Regina doesn't know whom she is talking about. “I wanted to buy a car, but he was reluctant. I tried to argue him into at least renting me a car, and I knew I almost had him when the wall behind him came tumbling down. The whole wall just fell apart, and there where concrete blocks everywhere, some of them even lying on top of him. I tried to free him, and then there was this noise, and when I looked up, this cupboard came crashing down on me.” She sobs, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably. “I couldn't move, Regina, and I thought nobody would ever find us. I thought I was going to die.” Her voice breaks, and Regina can only stroke her shoulder comfortingly, and breathe, and breathe, and breathe.

 

Dr. Whale enters the room without knocking. Somebody should talk to him about bedside manners, really. “You might have a sprained ankle, and maybe a broken rib, so you might experience some trouble breathing,” Dr. Whale tells them, and Regina thinks how strange it is that he, as a doctor, uses words like 'maybe' and 'might', avoiding reliable statements like the plague. Bad bedside manners are the least of his problems, probably. “If you are in a lot of pain, I can prescribe you some weak painkillers. But I wouldn't recommend anything stronger in case of a possible concussion.” He pauses in the doorway. “You were really lucky, Miss Swan. Mr. Tillman wasn't so lucky. He is on his way to Massachusetts General.”

 

Regina thinks it's almost funny, but also very telling, that even though Dr. Whale is Storybrooke's only surgeon, nobody wants to be treated by him. She follows him into the hallway, insisting that he hand her the digital files of Emma's x-rays. For her file, she promises, and strangely, he does believe her.

 

When she comes back into Emma's room, she finds her perched on the edge of the bed, trying to lift the hospital gown over her head. There is a blue and purple forming on her back, and when she turns to Regina, her breath is unsteady, coming in fast gasps. She has cried so many tears that there are only traces of black mascara left on her face. “I want to leave, I want to leave, I want to leave,” she keeps gasping between heaving sobs, barely discernible, and Regina wraps a blanket around her shoulders, waits for the tears to subside.

 

“Let's go then,” and Emma follows her out into the car.

 

When Regina turns to Emma, waiting for her to fasten her seat belt, there is desperation evident in her eyes, and a hard line around her mouth that wasn't there the day before, and Regina is suddenly hesitant to leave the other woman out of her sight, if just for that night. Emma stares straight ahead at the dark road, the rising of her chest with every breath the only movement visible. Regina can see the tension in the way Emma holds her head incredibly straight, the tendons in her neck standing out, and she thinks of the one place in Storybrooke she considers safe, thinks of ways to get Emma there (option 1: seduction. option 2: truth. option 3: blunt force). She opts for something in between, a half-truth, and she can only hope that Emma reads between the line. “You look like you need the comfort of a warm fireplace, and a glass of the best apple cider you've ever tasted. I have both at the mansion,” she offers, keeping her tone down, hoping the cameras don't pick up on her rapid heart beat. “I think Henry would like to see you're okay, too.”

 

Emma sighs, closes her eyes, and nods slowly. She doesn't open her eyes during the short drive to Mifflin Street.

 

Regina is in the master bathroom fifteen minutes later, dialing Marian's number frantically. “I can't keep doing this,” she starts as soon as the other woman picks up the phone. “I can't keep doing this. I can't keep doing this to her.”

 

Marian doesn't ask who exactly 'she' is, only says “Okay,” before listening to Regina's jumbled recapitulation of the week's events.

 

Regina sends her Emma's x-rays (breach of confidentiality, maybe, but she doesn't trust pretend-Dr. Whale, but she trusts Mulan's medical expertise.) “Since when are you so invested in her well-being,” Marian asks mockingly, but Mulan hushes her and tells Regina that no ribs or ankles are broken, but that she should check Emma's head for bruises or bumps forming, and to keep an eye on her for signs of concussion. “Call me if there's any change in her state of consciousness.”

 

Emma rolls her eyes when Regina runs her finger over her scalp, her forehead, the back of her neck, but she denies being hit on the head or losing consciousness. She follows Regina around the house, eerily quiet, watches her pick up a blanket, and pillows, and bed linen to prepare the guest room. “I don't think you should be alone tonight,” Regina explains. “We'll talk in the morning, okay?” she says before handing her spare pajamas.

 

She sleeps restlessly that night, her thoughts constantly returning to the woman hopefully asleep in her guest bedroom.

 

 

 

When Regina returns to the guest room in the morning, carrying two cups of steaming hot coffee, she finds the room empty aside from a scrap of paper lying on the bedside table. 'MM called,' it reads, 'something came up, had to leave. Sorry. E.'

 

Regina sighs, feeling a little helpless again, and makes a promise to visit the other woman the same day.

 

Her phone rings exactly when she returns one of the coffee cups to the kitchen.

 

“Regina, it's your mother. Please be so kind and move to your bathroom, dear.”

 

A little defiantly, “What is it, mother? I don't see why you can't tell me this when I am inside my house, alone.”

 

“Oh, is that a way to talk to one's mother? I believe not.” Her tone turns icy, “you are going to go to the bathroom, do you understand?”

 

Regina counts to ten, but obeys. When she is perched on the side of the tub, she asks again, forcing herself to stay calm. “I am there. What is it?”

 

“When you signed that contract, did you even intend to fulfill it? And don't even try to fool me, young lady. I've watched you befriend that Swan girl for the last few weeks now, and I am sick of it! Do you even understand the importance of this experiment at all? Do you realize, that should you as much as think about getting her out of Storybrooke, Mr. Gold will _ruin_ you. Do you fathom how hard life would be, for a single mother, no income, with a… heritage like yours?”

 

At that, something inside Regina snaps. “I wouldn't be a single mother if it weren't for you, mother, and if you ever as much as threaten...”

 

Her mother snarls right back at her. “I don't know what you're implying, but I will not have you befriend that girl and disgrace your family, do you hear me. You will stay away from Emma Swan!”

 

At that, Regina throws the telephone into the corner of the room, the plastic rattling against the tiles. She listens to the dial tone for ten minutes before getting up to wipe tear stains and smeared mascara from her cheeks. Her coffee is cold by now, but Regina feels suddenly too tired to prepare breakfast, her mother's tone still wearing down on her. Instead, she leans her head against the bathroom door, breathes in, and out, and in, her eyes closed, before she reapplies her make-up and decides to wake Henry.


	7. Six

They, whoever they are, manage to keep them apart for a few days, no matter how hard Regina tries to contact Emma. She is not answering her phone, and Regina suspects that her calls are being forwarded to a wrong number. She waits in the sheriff's office on Monday, moving from desk, to chair, to one of the cells, but Emma doesn't show up. (There's a reported break-in at the flower shop, Game of Thorns, but Regina learns about that only hours later.) She even tries once to visit her at her apartment, but Mary-Margaret gleefully informs her that Emma and David are on a hiking trip. She has never been more inclined to curse the other woman as in that very moment.

 

She runs into Emma at the grocery store on Wednesday, and they try to smile at each other and not smile at each other at the same time. It is awkward beginnings all over again, until Emma leans closer, her hair brushing Regina's cheek, and whispers into her ear, “I still plan on leaving, you know?” She smiles mischievously, leans even closer, “You're welcome to accompany me, you and Henry.”

 

Regina can feel her breath on the shell of her ear, and maybe a hint of velvet lips, and she fights the heat rising in her cheeks. And fails, judging by the knowing smirk on Emma's face.

 

 

 

When the phone rings, Regina feeling like no more than ten minutes have passed since she closed her eyes a few minutes before midnight, she can barely open her eyes. Blindly, she reaches for her phone somewhere on the bedside table.

 

On the other end of the line, she can hear frantic breathing, and for a second, she thinks that this is a prank call from a crazy fan, even though their numbers are being kept secret, and incoming calls are supposed to be screened. Then, “Where's Henry?”

 

Dread settles in the pit of her stomach. “He's, he is… Henry is in his room,” she stutters, and she remembers pulling up his blanket, tucking him in before going to bed. “Why do you ask?”

 

Her heart sinks when Emma, forcing herself to calm her breathing, urges, “Regina, _are you sure_? Please, please, can you…, please, make sure he is there?”

 

The dread solidifies, and she is on her feet in a second. Something in Emma's voice has every hair on her body stand on end. Without putting on a dressing gown, she crosses the hallway to Henry's room, barely keeping herself from running. There is a small lump under the blanket, and at the first moment, she wants to let out a relieved breath. Something feels wrong though, and when she pulls back the blanket, there is only a heap of clothes and the teddy bear she got him after Daniel's…

 

Emma tells her to meet her at the mines.

 

 

 

“God, I'm so sorry, Regina, I should have told you. Henry said something about an operation, but I didn't think he would actually do something like this. He mentioned the mines. I didn't think he'd be so, so… reckless, but then I found his bicycle, and I just _knew_. I'm so sorry.”

 

Regina places a hand on Emma's forearm, partly to stop Emma's breathless rambling, partly to steady herself. The rest of the town is arriving behind them, but Regina knows that a bunch of fake fireman, police officers and extras will never be enough to keep her son safe. She pulls out the cell phone from her pocket and dials number 4 on speed dial. “You have to get him out of there. Now!” she almost yells when the other side is picked up.

 

Despite the late hour, Mr. Gold sounds wide awake, and she has the dim feeling that he has giddily been watching the scene unfold on the 82-inch screen in his office. “Oh, dearie, you know I can't do that. I can't just waltz in there and let everything blow up in our face, can I? We don't even know if the mines won't just collapse every minute now, and I can't, knowingly and willingly, order someone to climb down headlong into ruin!” He cackles manically at that. “Oh, dearie, with the mines being in ruins, I would say it's not safe for more than one person at a time to go underground, wouldn't you agree?”

 

And that's when she knows. Knows that Mr. Gold would risk everything, would even sacrifice her son's life to improve audience rating. She turns to Emma, eyes flashing furiously. “I need you. Please, you have to safe my son.” She makes a promise to a god she doesn't believe in, a promise to call Marian immediately if only she gets her son back.

 

Emma nods, looking suddenly calm and determined. Without a word she reaches for a flashlight and moves over to the mines' entrance.

 

With every step that she follows Emma, Regina can feel the earth moving and shifting under her feet, and there's a distant sound of thunder to be heard over the onlookers' mumbling. She can't tell where special effects end and the catastrophe starts, but she has never before been more frightened for her son's life.

 

Emma stops, and Regina almost runs into her back. Turning, Emma places a comforting hand on her wrist, running her thumb in slow circles over her forearm. “I will get him out, Regina, I promise,” and Regina almost sobs at the earnestness in Emma's eyes. Clenching her fists at her sides, she watches Emma being lowered into the ground.

 

With her walkie-talkie, Emma keeps in contact at all times with her during the rescue mission. Her breathing gets more labored the closer she gets to the bottom, and inside Regina's chest, there are fear and calm fighting for dominance, with fear always winning. Emma keeps calling out for Henry, only silence and echoes answering her. She imagines Henry, alone in the dark, too frightened to move or call out, and her throat tightens up some more.

 

It takes half an hour, until she hears Henry's tiny voice over the speaker.

 

 

 

When she tucks Henry in that night (almost morning, but she'll let him sleep in just once), exhausted, and promising herself and reminding him that they will talk in the morning about what is and what isn't acceptable behavior, she fights the urge to lock the door to his bedroom. She sits at his bedside until he falls asleep.

 

She heads for her bathroom, locking the door behind her, and takes the cell phone from its hiding place. Impatiently, she dials Marian's number and waits until the other side is picked up.

 

“Do you know what time it is?” Marian's voice, muffled by sleep, sounds even more distant than usual, but Regina guesses it is only her imagination.

 

“Can I still take you up on that offer?” Regina asks, whispers, her voice barely audible.

 

Marian understands her anyway, and there is the rustling of blankets being thrown back before Marian's voice is clearer, the other woman wide awake now. “Are you sure?”

 

Regina hears footsteps, and door being opened and closed, and she pictures Marian, wrapped in her wine red bathrobe, slowly moving down the stairs, her feet bare. Mulan is probably still asleep, she always has been a heavy sleeper, and Regina is suddenly filled with so much longing for a world where she can be free, where she can fall asleep next to a woman whose arms wrap around her unconsciously, where she can have her first coffee in the morning wearing a slightly ripped t-shirt and nobody will know or even care.

 

She longs for a place where Emma is free to make her own choices. “Yes,” she breathes, then, with a firm conviction she hasn't felt in months, “yes, I am sure.”

 

Marian talks about a rescue mission, about friends she knows from before she and Robin broke up, friends she still trusts infinitely. She talks about a resistance that has formed against a TV show exploiting an unaware woman, legal consequences be damned, and Regina is suddenly grateful for Marian's flexible interpretation of the law. “Let me get in contact with Little John,” Marian finishes, “it will take no more than a few days for us to come up with a concrete plan. Where is she right now?”

 

“In the study.” Regina sighs. “I think it's about time I offer her to make use of my private bathroom.”

 

Marian agrees. “Be careful, honey.”

 

Regina hangs up, places the cell back in its hiding place, and, taking a deep breath, unlocks the door.

 

In the study, she pours two glasses of apple cider before sitting down next to Emma on the loveseat. If the other woman is confused by the sudden closeness, she doesn't show. “I can't tell you just how grateful I am, Sheriff Swan,” she begins, and she couldn't be more sincere. “I don't know what I would have done if anything happened to Henry… You saved him.”

 

Emma smiles, and for the first time that night, Regina notices the shadows under her eyes, the tired lines around the corner of her mouth. She takes in the hole in Emma's jeans, right above the knee, the stains on the lower legs, and when Emma starts to say, “Oh, it's nothing, don't...” Regina places her hand on Emma's thigh and smiles her mayoral smile. “Oh, it is something, everything in fact, Sheriff, believe me. Well, you certainly look like you're in need of a long bath. You do remember the wonderful bathtub upstairs? What would you say about making good use of it?”

 

Emma stares at her, incredulous, her brows furrowed. She doesn't resist though when Regina pulls her from the sofa and up the stairs. “Look, Regina, you really don't have to- I can really take a shower at my apartment,” she tries, but Regina just keeps pulling, and walking, and pulling.

 

She closes the door behind them, locks it for the second time that night, and turns to Emma. The blonde is about to lift the hem of her shirt. “Well, Madame Mayor, do you plan on staying and watching?” she smirks.

 

“Oh, stop it, Miss Swan. Do sit down, we need to talk. I owe you an explanation.”

 

And finally, for the first time in six months, she tells somebody who is not Marian the whole truth, and she can watch Emma's world slowly fall apart.

 

She tells her about Mr. Gold, and about his social and emotional so-called experiment. Tells her about a ruse to lure her to a town constructed with a single purpose in mind. Tells her about friends who are not who they seem to be. Tells her about a controlling mother and about implied threats and a fiancé who was the victim of a threat made real. Tells her about signing a contract as her only option to get away from her mother, to get away from a life where living in front of a thousand hidden cameras is the only way to escape her mother's dictatorial rule.

 

Tears are forming in Emma's eyes, and she looks at Regina desperately, filled with anguish when everything falls into place and finally makes sense, and when she asks, “do you mean…?”, her voice breaking, Regina can only grab her hand and nod.

 

At that, the blonde starts to cry, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably, and Regina lets her cry and just holds her and holds her and holds her.

 

 

 

They are wrapped around each other on the bathroom floor. The cold of the tiles is seeping through Regina's clothes into her skin, and she moves around until she can place her right leg and arm over Emma's body, curling even more into her. She waits until the other woman opens her eyes to look at her expectantly. “There is a way out of this,” she says, “a friend of mine, she is going to help...” she wants to say 'us', but opts for the safe choice, “she is going to help you out of here. That is, if you still want my help.”

 

For a moment, Emma doesn't reply, and Regina pictures her getting up, running out of the room, the house, the town. Running out of her life, and she is surprised with how much fear that thought fills her. “Okay,” Emma then says, her voice clipped.

 

 

 

Marian sends her a text two days later. _You should buy a flashlight for tonight. The stars are most beautiful at midnight, allegedly._

 

Regina deciphers the cryptic massage, a power outage she guesses, and she calls Emma immediately. “How would you like to come over for dinner tonight? Henry insists on watching The Fugitive reruns, and that's not something I want to endure on my own.”

 

Emma is quiet for a moment or two, then she lets out a breathless little laugh. “If you add homemade lasagna to the offer, I won't resist.”

 

Regina rolls her eyes even though the other woman can't see her. “Don't push your luck, Miss Swan. Are you coming or not?”

 

“Well, how can I resist an invitation like that?” Emma replies, suddenly earnest. “And I guess, since your son intends to binge on old TV shows I better bring my sleepover bag?”

 

“A sleepover, how charming,” Regina says, deprecatingly, but she can't fight the smile forming on her lips when she hangs up.

 

 

 

That evening, she prepares asopao de pollo instead of lasagna (she is still her own boss, after all), seeking comfort in familiar spices and well known movements. Henry claims it's his favorite, and when she tells him that Emma will be over for dinner his eyes light up even more. “You're my favorite mom,” he insists, and Regina forces herself to not fret over the meaning of every word he says.

 

She has just enough time to change into a light gray dress (to impractical for late night endeavors, she decides), into her mayoral slacks (only slightly better), into yoga pants (definitely not something she's going to be outside the house), and finally into a pair of jeans she finds hidden in the back of her closet. She can't remember ever changing her outfit more than once before a … meeting (not a date, she reminds herself, not a date), but then again, she has never before been involved in a meeting that should turn into a rescue mission.

 

Henry is setting the table when the doorbell rings, so Regina wipes her hands on the back of her pants and crosses the hallway to answer the door.

 

“Hi.” She takes a step back, gesturing Emma inside. “Do you want something to drink? I would offer you a glass of wine, but I don't think that would...”

 

“Wise? No, it wouldn't, not tonight,” Emma agrees. “Water will be fine.”

 

Regina has to get on her tiptoes to reach for the glasses in the top shelf (who decided to put them there anyway, and why didn't she think about moving them before?). She can feel her shirt ride up in the process. Turning, she finds Emma staring at her bared midriff, and the blonde blushes furiously while she hastily drags her gaze up Regina's body. “Do you need any help with- do you want me to-”

 

“You're rambling, Miss Swan,” she admonishes softly, but it doesn't hold any bite.

 

After dinner, they move to the living room. Henry wants to watch, no, not the Fugitive, but Selena, and Regina suppresses a groan (it is the third time this month after all, and her patience runs only so far) when she settles onto the couch.

 

Henry is already lounging in the armchair, so Emma awkwardly sits down next to her. “I was worried I'd fall asleep on your shoulder,” she admits, “but with this movie I don't think it's a risk anymore.”

 

“Henry does have an eclectic taste in movies,” Regina replies, and Emma moves a little closer, squeezing her thigh affectionately, the touch strangely calming to Regina.

 

Somewhere around the middle of the movie, Henry falls asleep.

 

Time moves slowly after that, and Regina is acutely aware of the other woman breathing quietly next to her, aware of their feet touching every time one of them stretches her legs.

 

When the movie credits start playing, Regina gets up to make coffee, and Emma picks out the next movie, James Bond Skyfall, “at least Judi Dench is in it, and with so many explosions I will have difficulty falling asleep,” she explains, “why don't you try to get some rest, just for a few minutes? I will wake up you and Henry when it's... time to go to bed.”

 

And Regina can feel the exhaustion settling deep in her bones, and she thinks 'trust her, trust her, trust her', and the last thing she sees before she closes her eyes, is Emma face, gaze so warm and open.

 

 

 

“Wake up, Regina, it's close to midnight,” and almost in trance, Regina watches Emma rouse Henry as well. “Get up, kid. Time too brush your teeth,” Emma whispers, “can you open your eyes for me?” And if Henry thinks it's strange that Emma makes him put on his thick pullover for the short trip to the bathroom, he doesn't let it show. She wonders just how much he knows that something substantial is about to happen.

 

They are in the hallway when the lights go out. 'Perfect timing,' she silently congratulates Marian, before grabbing their jackets off the coat rack. Henry takes hold of her other hand, hesitant but not entirely frightened, and he follows her outside. She can hear Emma behind them, staying close, and through the darkness they move as one towards the Benz parked not in the garage but reverse parked in the driveway for once.

 

She doesn't dare to turn on the lights, moving along well-remembered streets, the darkness of the night providing some cover, and Regina can only hope that the power outage means no cameras as well.

 

When she turns around a corner a little too fast, the wheels of the Benz skidding on the asphalt, Henry notices that something is wrong. “Mom? Why are all the lights out?”

 

She brings the car back under control, risking a brief look in the rear view mirror. Despite barely being able to make out his face in the darkness, Regina can see that his eyes are huge, the white clearly visible, and she is relieved when Emma reaches back to take hold of her son's hand. “Don't worry, Henry, your mom will keep you safe. Think about this as Operation Rescue, okay?”

 

“Marian,” she tries to assure him even more, “she promised to help us, and I guess this is her idea of help, cariño.” Henry leans back against the seat at that, and his eyes seem a little less wide.

 

When they approach the town border, there are blue lights flashing in the distance, and Regina has to swallow around the terror of losing once again that is rising in her throat. Gold's people, Regina realizes, and she can only hope that Marian has thought of alternate ways to escape should Gold keep on clinging to his experiment.

 

There are five roads leading out of Storybrooke, and Regina assumes she'd find a road block on every one of them.

 

When they slow down in front of the first police car, two things happen at once: A police officer pounds on the window on the driver's side, yelling at her, “there's been a nuclear event at the power plant, you need to return to the town, Mayor Mills!”

 

Regina gapes at that, then lets out a frustrated laugh. There is no power plant close to Storybrooke, let alone nuclear one, and even as the fake mayor of this fake town she is absolutely sure about that.

 

Just when the officer hurriedly motions for her to turn around the Mercedes, six other vehicles pull up at the side of the road.

 

There is a sound truck among them, and this time, Regina does laugh when Marian waves at her from the other side of the road.

 

Gold's police men can only watch in silence when Marian's crew sets up cameras and microphones and spotlights of their own.

 

 

 

Emma and Regina exit the car while Mulan keeps a watchful eye on Henry. “We're broadcasting on all channels,” Marian briefly explains, only after taking the time to look Emma up and down and flashing Regina a knowing smile.

 

Regina hopes that her blush is hidden under the shadows of the sound truck. (It isn't, but at least Emma has the decency to blush as well.)

 

“Well, your turn,” Marian continues, handing her a microphone, nodding toward the cameras.

 

(In the end, it is this smart move that brings the Emma Swan Show to a termination: “She knows, Gold,” Regina announces, voice strong with the knowledge that she can bee heard and seen countrywide. “Emma Swan knows about your TV show and so-called experiment, and she wants out of it. You promised she would be free to leave should she ever want to do so, and that is exactly what we're going to do.”

 

The seconds pass by slowly, without anyone moving, and next to Regina, Emma whispers, pleads almost, “let me go. Let me go, whoever you are.” and Regina squeezes her hand while they are watching the dark sky for any sign.

 

Coming from every direction, Gold's disembodied voice cackles affectedly. “Of course you are free to leave, dearie. We simply were offering an opportunity, and I can't see...”

 

They don't stay to listen to the rest of Gold's monologue.)

 

Only when they cross the toll bridge, Emma squeezing her thigh in silent thanks, Regina lets out a long breath.

 

“So. Operation Rescue was a success?” Henry asks from the backseat, looking close to pumping his fist in the air.

 

Regina nods, and Emma smiles, and not once during the four hour drive to Boston does Emma remove her hand from Regina's thigh, and she can find nothing wrong with that.


	8. Epilogue

 

Three things Regina Mills doesn't believe in: god, the importance of reality TV and her mother's endless dominance.

 

Three things Regina Mills does believe in: family, herself and happy endings coming in all different kind of forms.

 

Three things Emma Swan doesn't believe in: ghosts, coincidences and TV shows.

 

Three things Emma Swan does believe in: family, redemption, and true love. (Also, some days her superpower, but Regina only ever laughs as soon as she mentions it.)

 

Three things Henry Mills believes in: his mom who sometimes doesn't really understand him but loves him all the more, a stranger named Emma Swan who doesn't feel like a stranger anymore, and their little family being enough to defeat everything.

 

 

 

So when on a Wednesday evening in early March, Regina decides that it's time to move to New York, Emma simply smiles at her and promises to carry all of their boxes to the new three bedroom apartment they found in Brooklyn the week before.

 

“That would be finally putting those arms of yours to a good use,” Regina replies, and lets herself be pulled into a warm embrace. (Outside of their home, Regina remains hesitant to even hold hands- she still remembers cameras everywhere, and her mother watching her every step, but inside the apartment, Regina can barely keep her hands to herself. Placing her hand at the small of Emma's back, rubbing the other woman's feet when they are watching TV, mostly innocent touches to remind herself that Emma is still with her, still right where she belongs. (Though one night, Henry finds them in the kitchen, his mom's back pressed against the counter and Emma's hand under his mom's crisp blouse. He opens and closes the refrigerator door loudly, “No amount of therapy can make me unsee that, you know,” and leaves the kitchen smirking. Regina refrains herself from touching Emma after that. For two days, that is, but they always remember to lock the door behind them.)

 

(In case anyone cares: Mr. Gold gets publicly reprimanded for his experiment. Nonetheless, he gives an interview about how his experiment could have changed the world, blurring the lines between entertainment and science. He knows that legally, the prosecutor doesn't have enough evidence for any judge to approve an indictment (legal adoption, and apparently he let Emma go once she made clear that she didn't want to stay. Regina almost throws the TV set through the window, only Emma's left hand covering her right one holding her back.), and he smiles triumphantly into the camera. He gets arrested a full six months later though- evidence of tax evasion, corruption of public officials, and association with a known drug lord are enough to grant him eight years behind bars. Regina and Emma decide to get married exactly a year later.)

**Author's Note:**

> Again, it's been quite the experience for me, so thank you for reading!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Emma Swan Show](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6045028) by [mippippippi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mippippippi/pseuds/mippippippi)




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